But...
Gordon had only just reached the entrance to the corridor when he stopped in his tracks, his gaze instantly turning wary.
He looked up and stared ahead. A familiar figure lay on the corridor floor.
Scarecrow!
The man's straw hat had fallen to one side, and his woven straw hood sat crookedly on his face.
He lay motionless, both hands covering the same area as the Mad Hatter. It looked as though someone had busted his front entrance too.
What on earth happened?
Why were Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter both lying on the ground, looking half dead?
Full of bewilderment, Gordon raised his head and continued looking farther down the corridor.
At the end of the corridor stood a figure in red and gold armor, his back to him.
His breath caught. He tightened his grip on his gun, instinctively aiming the muzzle at the figure.
Was that Iron Man, Tony Stark?
Or some raving lunatic?
Gordon swallowed, cautiously observing Lynn ahead of him, afraid this fellow might be another lunatic.
Wait, did this guy take down the Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, and all those controlled officers?
A low voice came from ahead, interrupting his thoughts.
"Commissioner Gordon, it's only been a few days. How did you get this pathetic?"
Lynn turned around and walked up to Gordon, then...
Under Gordon's bewildered gaze, he yanked away the gun he was using to prop himself up.
Caught off guard, Gordon nearly fell to the floor. His eyes widened as he stared at the man in the flashy Red and Gold Armor before him.
"You... what are you doing?" His voice was somewhat hoarse, like sandpaper scraping concrete.
"Nothing. I just wanted to see if you could still stand without your crutch."
Lynn shrugged and spoke with an indifferent expression.
"After